Ghost
by AmberSavage1234
Summary: One shot. How Ste copes/doesn't cope after Brendan's death, (if Brendan had died on the balcony). Drug Use/Suicide, rated M just to be safe. *Complete*


_**I couldn't think of any other title and seeing as Brendan is a ghost…**_

**AN - So…basically this is based on Brendan dying on the balcony and how Ste is coping (or isn't). This may be upsetting, I'm not sure really…Oh and thank-you for taking your time and reading x**

…**. …. …. ….**

Ste took a wobbly breath, opening the door of his flat and braving the bitter temperatures. The harsh light of day shines into his eyes and he is temporally blinded, his head spinning and eyes blurring with the sudden contrast of illumination. He stands there for what seems like hours, holding onto the door handle and using his forearm to block the light from entering his eyes; this is the first time he has ventured outside since _his _death, the first time he has needed to go out because right now he needs to go to Price Slice and the alley. The alley which is so close to that dreaded place, the place where his life prematurely ended, the place where his hopes and dreams where shattered into a million pieces, crushed and demolished; where his happy ending was so violently torn away from him and his heart was ripped from his chest. But none of that matters now; he _needs _to go there, _needs _to bypass that place to get what his body is so badly yearning for. He needs to get those two things, the things that completely numb his mind, that take all of the pain he is feeling, twist it up into a ball and throw it away; the things that may only be a fleeting phase but give him such a high he doesn't care, he could do it every day for the rest of his life if he had to, just to feel that long awaited release.

This is the first time he has needed to go outside to collect his stash; normally the supplier would bring it to him, for an extra fee of course, the dealer claiming it wasn't his job to do deliveries and saying he was losing out on other 'customers'. Ste didn't care about paying extra, he had forty grand after all, with the sale of the deli and everything and in all honesty Ste would have paid thousands just for a high, as long as he didn't have to pass _that _place. However, today was a bad day; it wasn't only his gear that had run dry, his alcohol resources were next to none and the dealer had told him to pick up the drugs or he wasn't getting them.

That is why he is here now, locking up the front door and walking towards the village; trying to ignore all of the people gawping at his sorry state. He knows he looks a mess, hair mussed, sweating, shaking for a fix and wearing the same tracksuit he was in when _he_ left him three weeks ago. He couldn't give a flying fuck; the only thing on his mind is how he can walk through the village without seeing any of his 'friends'. Well the people he used to call friends anyway, the only people he had were Doug and Amy, even they wanted nothing to do with him now; saying he was a mess and needed help…he should laugh really, thinking anyone would understand him like _he _did, thinking anyone would actually care or love him as much as _that_ man did. He cannot even say his name, the thought of anything to do with _him_ completely destroys him, makes him suck in a breath and hold back tears, feeling as though his heart is being trampled on repeatedly.

The club is in front of him and he can't help it, has to look up, has to see the place where everything ended so he does; stares at the grey building and the pink writing and simply asks why? Why him, why did this have to happen to _him_? To both of them, what did he even do in his life that was so bad? He had done nothing, well if you excluded Amy but apart from that _nothing_. His life had been fucked up since the beginning, being born into a family who didn't even want him, being beaten every single day until he finally managed to break free, finally managed to get away from Terry's punches and kicks, from his alcoholic mother and the way she would sneer at him, he had gotten away only for everything to turn to shit all over again. After Amy and the bloody youth offender's institute, after Lucas and Leah, after all the petty crimes and violence, after II Gnosh; he had finally gotten himself a proper job, was finally able to provide for his family, even if things where tight…

But then _he _had come and fucked everything up.

_He _had brought that violence back into Ste's life, and beaten him again and again, but they had managed to move past that and over two years later they were happy; that was until the devil itself had walked into their lives. _Seamus. _Only a few months of Seamus' taunting, of calling his son every vile word on earth, Seamus was dead; killed by his own daughter and now Ste was left with no-one, no Cheryl, no kids, no friends and no…no he can't think of _him_ anymore.

Ste drags his eyes away from the club, continues to walk into the alley; the hooded man is already waiting for him and they don't exchange words, just simply swap cash for heroin and then part ways, leaving Ste to think about the alcohol. How can he go into Price Slice and not be recognised? He realises quickly that there is no other option then to go in, knowing Frankie will try and make small talk with him.

Sure enough when he gets to the cashier, fingertips frozen to the bone, dirty tracksuit hanging off his now malnourished frame; Frankie is there, giving him that _I wanna know your business _smile.

"Hey love" she looks Ste up and down, trying to mask the evident worry and shock in her expression but he sees it, it's the same way everyone has been looking at him recently; face full of concern but he knows better, knows they don't really care, no-one apart from…"what can I get you Ste?"

"Whisky" and that is all he says to her, doesn't even make eye-contact, just pulls out the money and takes the Jameson's off of her. He doesn't even like whiskey, finds the burn that trickles down his throat as he drinks it repulsive, but it brings him closer to _him. _He can't drink scotch, it's not the same, doesn't have the same taste or smell that _he_ had. He tells Frankie to keep any change he has and walks out of the shop, dodging that little scrote…he can't even remember his name, just manages to quickly turn to prevent them crashing into each-other.

He's walking back to the flat now, skin itching for those two things again but he's getting that familiar sensation, the one that tells him he is being watched and he turns around to look up at the club balcony and _he's _there again; staring down at him and shaking his head. _He's _here all the time, Ste can hear him, can see him every day, can feel him on his skin all the time and now he's shouting at the club; screaming for everything to leave him alone, for _him_ to leave him alone and now Doug is walking up to him, asking him what is wrong, trying to pull him into the deli and Ste just _can't _with any of this anymore.

"Fuck off Doug! Why can't everyone just _leave_ me?!" he's yelling at him, tears forming in his eyes and he pushes Doug, pushes him until the other man tumbles over and lands flat on his arse. The drugs are burning a hole in his pocket and he _needs _them, his bones are aching and his body is screaming for the familiar prick in his arm. He looks up at the club one final time but _he _isn't there anymore, has completely vanished, so he starts walking, doesn't even look back when Doug starts calling after him.

-X-

He's in the flat now, desperate and practically pulling his hair out. He takes off his belt and straps it around the top of his arm, the syringe is already filled, ready to be used and he's about to put it into his arm, about to drift off to that paradise when he hears _him _again.

"Steven, don't do this…please" his eyes shoot open when he hears that unmistakeable Irish drawl and _he_ is crouching in front of him, tears glistening in his eyes, looks real, like Ste could wrap him in his arms and hold on to him forever. This has happened before though, every time he becomes close to doing it, _he _comes and only at times like these can he say his name.

"Brendan?" he looks at him, reaches out his hand and this time it's different, Brendan takes his hand and interlocks their fingers; the first time they have touched since the older man was ripped from this world and it's overwhelming, too much. He pulls Brendan towards him and they're suddenly in each-other's arms and Ste's crying, the need for a fix disappearing when he and Brendan are like this. "Please, please don't leave me Brendan", he's crying into his shoulder, gripping tighter and tighter but the Irishman pulls away and Ste isn't so warm anymore.

"I have to Steven…you know I do" Brendan says, stroking Ste's sweaty fringe out of his eyes and suddenly the need for the drug is back and his bones are aching again and his muscles are squeezing into knots and this _pain _is gripping him and it's just excruciating. Before he even knows what he's doing, he has the needle in his arm, pumping the drug into his bloodstream and it's exhilarating; Brendan's hurt and disappointed expression is drifting away and he's in his own world, laughing as he begins to float through the air, the floor feeling as soft as clouds and he feels as light as a feather…

As the drug begins to wear off Brendan is there, cradling him in his arms as Ste's body shakes and he breaks out into a cold sweat; he's whispering _I'm here _and _it's okay _into Ste's ear but he's not here, will never be here again and Ste will never be the same ever again.

-X-

It's been nearly five months since Brendan's death, nearly five months since Ste first touched Brendan after he died and every day has been the same. Ste had fucked himself up, made himself high as fuck and fell unconscious in Brendan's arms, the other man always repeating _I love you _into Ste's ear. He's barely been surviving, his days consisting of getting drunk, injected shit into his arms and sometimes going to a random bar, letting some stranger fuck him before going home to be with Brendan. It's always the same thing, over and over again, like Groundhog Day and he's numb, empty, just wants everything to end right now.

He's sat in the bedroom, the bedside lamp producing a harsh light to the otherwise pitch black room. He's stepped it up a gear tonight, determined to end his pitiful excuse for a life, has cocaine, heroin and whisky spread out in front of him and a blade in his hand. He's reminiscing about times with Brendan, all the small things he would do. The way he would chew his gum, the way he always had his shirt unbuttoned, the way he nicked the entire duvet while they slept. And as he feels the prick in his arm and the familiar burn of the liquid entering his veins he thinks about seeing Brendan again, about feeling his warmth and being in his arms.

"Steven! Stop this now!" he had forgotten Brendan was at the other side of the room, had forgot he was watching. Always watching. He ignores him and reaches for the cocaine, sniffing a lump before swigging from the whisky bottle.

He begins to feel faint, his grip on reality slipping away so he takes one final look at Brendan, sees the pain in his face one last time before taking the blade to his wrist. He's glad the drugs have numbed his senses, he can't feel the pain and as the blood soaks through the bed sheets, as his life slips away from him, Brendan is there, holding him in his arms and whispering _I love you_, all over again.

-X-

The next time he opens his eyes, he is in a different place entirely. A place that holds happy memories, where he finally got what he wanted, where he got the love of his life back. He's stood on that familiar bridge, the air just as crisp and clean as it was the last time he was here. His pain and bitterness and anger have vanished and he feels free, happy, like he did when Brendan was still with him. He looks around and can't see anyone, just empty space, like he's the only person in the world but then he sees it, a single gold glint hanging off the bridge.

He walks towards it and holds it in his hand, realising it's a padlock immediately. He turns it around in his hand and looks at the writing.

_Ste + Brendan. Forever._

He can't catch his breath, a single tear slipping down his cheek, only this time it's not caused by heartbreak; he's happy. He's about to turn around, about to look for Brendan but some arms wrap around his waist, pulling him closer until he's flushed against the person's chest. He feels lips on his neck and the familiar sensation of a moustache tickling behind his ear.

"Why did you do that Steven?...why?" He turns around in Brendan's arms, wipes the tear that has fallen down the Irishman's face and kisses him gently on the lips.

"I had to, I had to be with you. I couldn't be apart from you any longer and it doesn't matter anyway, I was dead as soon as you left me". The amount of honesty in that statement is heart-breaking and Brendan knows, has watched him so much these past months to realise Ste was a dead man walking.

"I know…but you never have to feel that pain again okay? Because I've got you now and im never _ever_ going to leave you again". Brendan whispers against his lips before kissing him again, pulling Ste even closer into his body.

"Do you promise, this is forever isn't it?"

"I promise Steven, this is forever" and they kiss again, time not important because they have forever and have promised each-other forever. This is their paradise, as long as they have each-other they don't care and the padlock shines behind them, glistening in the sun; proving that their love is for eternity.

-X-


End file.
